MAGIC
by Pantz
Summary: [ONE SHOT] "They met years ago in muggle London... He swear there was magic."


_**Disclaimer: Everything from HP books belongs to JK Rowling**_

_**MAGIC  
**_

They met years ago…

She was a fresh graduate from Hogwarts. Eighteen years old. Beautiful. Clever. Frustrated with everything her parents taught her. She packed her bags in the middle of the night. She crept out of her house, quietly, and never once looked back until she was safely on the knight bus. She remembers kissing Bellatrix goodbye as she slept, touching Narcissa's long, thick hair. It might have been the other way around. She isn't sure exactly and thinks that maybe she doesn't remember as well as she thought she did. It was a **very** long time ago.

She was eighteen when she walked out of her house because she had a longing in her stomach to climb over the stone walls surrounding the manor and see the world her parents hid from her. She had a longing for freedom, for wind in her hair, to eat spaghetti the muggle way. She had to leave, had to get far away from magic, from witches and wizards. _She went to muggle London. _

She remembers leaving a note...

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

_I'm sorry. But, this is the best thing for me. Life was strangling me. I love you. Tell Bellatrix and 'Cissa I love them too._

_Andy_

But than as she thinks about what she wrote in that letter she doubts every word and sometimes thinks that maybe she never wrote it at all. She sometimes thinks she just imagined it. Like when she said she loved her parents. _She had to of imagined that._

So, this girl _freshly eighteen_ ventured outside of her secured walls for the first time, packing some clothes, her wand and a few spell books. She was young _only eighteen_ not caring that she had no where to go, only that she was going somewhere. She had to leave, had to go somewhere that nobody knew her name, where nobody believed in magic.

She grew up with magic, with wands and spells and hair that _if you say the right words_ change colors with your every mood. She grew up with pots washing themselves as the spoiled rich girl with house elves doing everything for her. She grew up racing on broomsticks and enchanting people with potions and when she allows herself to think about it, the magic she grew up with was hardly even magic at all. She hardly touches her wand anymore. She remembers loving magic _color changing magic_ and loving every spell she could do with her wand. She hates it now, though. No longer understands the wonders of a world she once knew so well. But still, this was years before. _She was eighteen_.

She walked out of the Knight bus and into his bar. Now he grew up in muggle London. That's what she called him when he first met her, first hit on her. "_You dumb muggle!"_ she remembers crying. He looked at her confused when she said that and asked if she was foreign, if this was her first time in London._ "Why yes it is"_ she had said rather politely. He sometimes thinks he loved her when he first saw her. That he loved her thick, wavy, black hair. That he loved her milky white skin. He looked at her, saw sadness in her pale blue eyes and felt his stomach stir. _Magic_ he thought instantly. Only he was thinking of a magic of a different kind.

She was shocked when his hand rested on hers for the first time and when he kissed her he swears bells went off in his ears. He insists he heard a choir of birds singing just for them. _Magic, he would say years later as he put his arms around her. She would push him away. _And they fell in love like that. He showed her all the sights of London. Showed her the football field he used in high school, showed her the castles that littered the landscape. And for a while she lived life as a muggle _without magic_.

They were married within months, stars still in their eyes, his love for her still as strong as ever. They got married in a small church in London, the muggle way _without magic, well, without **her** kind of magic. _It was all rather sad to her. She looked at the door hoping to see her family, wishing Sirius was in the crowd making faces, hoping to catch a glimpse of 'Cissa's doll like presence. She looked around for her cold sister's sneering face, for the dark beauty she always envied.

_They weren't there._

She remembers smiling wide at him on their wedding day. She remembers the happiest day of her life. She remembers a beautiful gown, a handsome groom, and magic. There had to have been magic. _Her memory was never that good._

They lived in the magical world because she thought her kid would want an owl and _truth be told_ she wished to be close to her family. Ted, he always loved the magical beans of every flavor, always loved the card games that would blow up as he played. She laughed the first time he burned off an eyebrow._ She didn't laugh much after that._

But, he loved London. Loved the smell. Loved the air. Loved waking up in the morning, walking into **his**bakery and smelling the crumpets. When he lived with her he missed the people, his London friends. He missed reading the sports section of the paper with Jack and hearing about Kim's illicit love affairs over a scone. He missed the smugness of the air and missed riding the underground with John. _He thought he would miss her more if he left for London. He loved her. She made him feel magic._

She sometimes wonders if he loves London more than he loved her. She stares out the window and thinks of him. She'll say his name aloud "_Ted, Ted, Ted Tonks"_ and she'll slightly cry at the reality that sets in on her, at the pot washing itself in the kitchen sink, and at the wand lying beside her on the table. She misses the muggle world sometimes. Misses walking into the bakery and watching his eyes light up as he smelled the crumpets. Misses the way he smiled back in London, the glow always on his face. But in the muggle world she missed herself.

She met him one day, loved him the next day, and saw his back walking away the day after that. She doesn't blame him, doesn't hate him at all. It was her fault. She pushed him out the door, looked at him with hard eyes, with Black eyes, and said, "**You can't understand**.**"** _Understand what? Understand magic?_

He pleaded with her for a long time. It sometimes seems like years and he feels he grew old while pleading her._ "No." he would say, "I love you. You love me. I love magic." __She would shake her head._ "_It's not about magic, Ted! Everything you were is in London. Everything I am is… is here!" _

She met him one day and fell in love with him the next. Fell in love with him as he gave her a tour of London. Fell in love with him as she rode on the underground for the first time and ate a crumpet from his bakery. Fell in love with him as he picked up a fork and said, _"Here, you eat spaghetti like this"._

She met him one day and fell in love with him the next. He read to her sport statistics and she showed him the cards she collected from the chocolate frogs She met him one day and fell in love with him the next when they danced in the moonlight and swam naked in a lake.

"_We had some wild times in London when we were young, didn't we Andromeda?"_

_**She smiles sadly**. _

"_You miss London, don't you, Ted? You miss it a lot."_

She seems broken now. Nymphadora is grown and in Hogwarts. Her parents, Aunt, Uncle, and Reggie are dead. Her cousin is in Azkaban for doing the family business. Her cold hearted sister went crazy in a cell with her husband. Her 'Cissa is locked away in a loveless marriage. And, sometimes, she sees him leaving all over again. _She felt broken._

"_Are you happy Andy?" he used to ask her everyday._

"_Are you?" was her instant reply._

She could never give him a straight answer. Even at their wedding when he asked about her happiness she calmly stated that she was quite fine. _Are you?_

He missed life in London when he lived with her. Missed reading the sports section. Missed basketball. Missed football. He went to a quidditch game once and couldn't follow. "_Ted it's an easy game, really. That's a quaffle and a chaser has to throw it through those three hoops there. And that's a bludger. It's used to…" _But he never could understand the game. Just like he couldn't understand magic, _her color changing magic._

"_Ted, you have to go back!"_

"_You belong there…in London, with them!" They pleaded with each other daily, both fully knowing they loved each other, and yet with the knowledge that their hearts were light years away._

She belonged in a world comprised of magic. She belonged with her licorice wands and pictures that moved, a world that was inhabited by the craziest people imaginable. She belonged in the magical world, with its fights over blood and terrorisms continually going on outside the large stone walls of her manor. She belonged in a world she once tried to escape from. _She would never make that mistake again._

He belonged in London. Belonged with morning crumpets and belonged with landscapes that littered of castles which seemed **more **magical than her whole world. He belonged with the dirty subway stations and belonged with newspaper pictures that stayed stationary. He belonged with the type of magic a person feels, not magic a person does. _His heart never left London._

It took years of fighting for them both to realize that they didn't belong together, even though they loved each other.

"_You need to be happy, Ted. Just leave!" she would cry._

But he couldn't leave. For years they stayed together because her eyes were still a pale blue, still slightly sad like the day they first met in the pub he once frequented He couldn't leave because he knew her skin was warm where he touched it and when he kissed her he swears he heard bells.

"_Andy, I want to stay. I want to be with you."_ _He says in his mind wishing to tell her everything he feels. But all he does is stare out the window._

"_I wonder if it's raining in London." He would say instead._

She feels old. Older than she should feel, although it was years ago that she was eighteen. She remembers leaving her house that night. Remembers climbing over a stone wall, remembers writing a short note with a quick word of regret. She remembers the kisses she gave her sisters and the tears she tried not to cry. But she can't remember if she told her family she loved them, if she kissed Narcissa on the cheek or if she kissed Bellatrix, instead. She can't remember if she cried because she was sad to be leaving or ecstatic at the freedom that instantly became hers. She feels old. Has grown old since that night in the bar when she met the only man she ever loved, and yet, feels as foolish as an eighteen year old girl.

"_It's **always** raining in London, Ted." She would reply._

She cried the night he left. He didn't understand it. He cried that night, too. She didn't understand that. He kissed her before he left.

"**_I feel magic when I'm with you Andromeda."_**

"**_Maybe that's the problem, Ted."_**

END (I have to pay compliments to Liebling for this one. I got the idea from one of her stories.)

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